Enigma
by gryffindormischief
Summary: George has a way of convincing people to go along with his shenanigans.


A/N: Combined three prompts for this one so its long, but I like it. Kind of different a little I think, but fun Hinny & co. Hope you guys like it!

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Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a long, slow breath between his teeth, "You did _what?_ "

Unperturbed by his soon to be brother-in-law's growing rage, George rocked his chair back on two legs as he tossed a shiny red apple above his head, "I told Lee that you'd do a spot on his late night show. Nothing special, you can talk about magical stain remover for a quarter of an hour for all I care."

Snatching the fruit from mid-air, Harry bit into the crisp skin with an angry crunch, " _Why_ would I talk about magical stain remover?"

George shrugged, letting his chair drop back to four legs, "I _told_ you, I'm just giving options." He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment before his eyes lit up, "You're an auror."

"Well spotted, friend."

Pausing to shoot a scowl over his shoulder as he rifled through the cupboards for sustenance, George hummed in thought, "I just reckoned you're an auror, and also a public figure, so you could do a public safety spot or something. Your boss will love it."

The table groaned under Harry's weight as he propped one hip against its aging top, face studiously blank, "George."

Blinking girlishly, George looked toward Harry, biscuit tin in hand, "Yes my _lovely_ Harry darling?"

"I'm going to murder you."

George poured a tall glass of milk into his crystal clear glass, taking a healthy gulp before pointing an accusing finger in Harry's direction, " _That_ is not very auror like."

Glaring dangerously, Harry grabbed George's digit and murmured menacingly, "Kinglsey'll spot me one."

"You're being quite rude. Don't make me object at your wedding," the red head threatened with a lofty tone, mischievous eyes conveying the seriousness of his warning.

Unintimidated, Harry quirked a dark brow and examined his wand as he rumbled, "If I let you live that long."

Making his way back toward the table that had borne countless Weasley family meals and dropped down in the slightly wobbly chair across from Harry, "I'm not without my defenses."

Palms braced against the table, Harry drew his future brother-in-law's gaze and held it, ebony locks shifting in the breeze the only movement, "If I let you make it to the wedding and you object, _Ginny_ will murder you for me."

George polished off a third biscuit, crumbs collecting on the table between his elbows, "Are you one of those violent couples?"

Ginny chose that moment to enter, tanned and freckled arms twining around Harry's neck from behind, her chin resting lightly on his head, her flowery scent mixed with fresh cut grass, and leather floating around him. Smirking, she turned her attention to her brother, "Who wants to know?"

With a grimace, George flicked his wand, simultaneously clearing his crumbs and sending his dishes to the sink, where they were covered in suds by invisible hands, "Ginny, please, don't say things like that."

Shrugging, she slipped into Harry's lap, one arm looped around his shoulder, fingers disappearing into his thick hair, "I just asked a question." Rapidly losing interest in anything beyond the red head in his lap and the fingers slowly scratching along his scalp, Harry's eyes dropped closed as he bit back a moan.

George shuddered, shaking his head as if to clear a mental image, "Yeah _whatever_ squirt." He stood, making for the floo, presumably returning to his premises, but turned at the last minute, green powder clasped in his fist, "Harry just be at Lee's on time. It'll be live."

"What is he talking about?" Ginny queried as Harry's forehead found the juncture between her neck and shoulder, a groan rumbling through his chest.

Blowing out a heavy breath, he sighed, "Just the fact that _he_ volunteered _me_ to do a spot on Lee's wireless program."

Rays of the setting sun shifted, spearing across the empty table, lilting off the slices of gold interspersed through Ginny's locks as she hummed, pressing slightly wind-chapped lips to the crown of Harry's head, "And you're not happy I presume?"

"No. Weasleys are nothing but trouble," Harry mumbled into her collarbone, lips just brushing against a cluster of freckles he'd always thought resembled a snitch, or a bee.

Ginny's hand dropped to knead at his shoulder in an effort to simultaneously convey physical comfort and solidarity, "Present company excepted?"

Harry huffed out a laugh, a heat that spread across her chest and sent her heart racing…not that she'd ever admit it to his face. He lifted his head with a grin, fingers playing at her waist, "Oh you're trouble, but you have other pleasant qualities."

"Oh well I'm glad I'm _pleasant_ enough," Ginny drawled, wagging her engagement ring in his face before she stood and tugged him toward the sitting room.

Shaking her hand back and forth between them, Harry stuck his tongue out, pouting magnificently, "Stuff it."

Spinning around in place, golden-red hair whirling in her wake, Ginny delivered a well placed shove to his shoulder, "You."

Giving as good as he got, Harry positioned his slim fingers beneath her nose, flicking the tip with expert accuracy, "No you." The duo locked gazes, chests rising and falling nearly in unison, hands poised for attack, each waiting for the other to flinch.

Suddenly deciding finessing attacks were no longer fulfilling, in one smooth motion, Ginny bent her knees and launched forward, tacking her fiancé over the arm of the couch. The couple landed in a heap on the groaning couch springs, elbows and knees in all the wrong places.

Harry winced, slipping a hand down below to adjust Ginny's knees around his more… _sensitive_ areas. As she complied, legs coming to frame his slim hips, he pulled a cushion from behind blindly, propping his head up. "D'you ever wonder if we're too immature for marriage?"

Ginny tossed her hair behind her shoulders, "I dunno, I think we can be _very_ mature." Ensuring he grasped her meaning, the chaser wriggled her brows lasciviously and leaned close, running her nose along the underside of his jaw.

"Should I take that as a yes?" Harry got out with barely a croak, hands _firmly_ fixed on her waist, mindful of the fact that he was in her parent's living room with floo service open to any one of her many large and vengeful brothers.

Unperturbed, Ginny placed slow, wicked kisses up his jawline until she reached his straining ear to murmur, "You should take that as a 'lets get out of here.'"

Fighting to keep his head as she did unspeakable things to his ear, Harry slid his hands to try and pull her back, somehow getting lost along the way, although he still managed a clear thought, "But dinner with your-"

Finally, of her own accord, Ginny sat up, eyes sparking, face full of a different kind of glow, "Just tell them we have wedding stuff to do."

Harry shook himself from his reverie, nervously reaching across the table littered with half eaten pastries, discarded paper scraps, and other detritus associated with creating a wireless program, his clammy hand closing around the handle of the half filled water pitcher. _Maybe if I 'accidentally' spill this the show'll be cancelled indefinitely…_

Before he had a chance to commit what could possibly be a petty crime against property, Lee Jordan returned to his seat, swiveling the chair around on a single leg before straddling the back, arms braced casually, "So. I was thinking we'd start off with some casual back and forth to get people listening, and then I'll transition you into the promo you worked up?"

Biting his lip, Harry used a single digit to center the currently dead microphone with exact precision in front of his sternum, "Ok. But can we keep the personal stuff minimal?"

Shooting him a wink that was likely indented as comforting, but merely sent Harry's stomach roiling, Lee pulled his outline in front of him, "Sure thing."

On the other side of magically sound proofed glass, Lee's producer pointed at a ever turning hourglass, now filled with the bright red sand that signaled the end of a commercial break. With a quick gesture to convey his understanding, Lee gave Harry's shoulder a quick pat and slipped back into his role as host with stunning ease.

"I know I promised a great treat this evening, listeners, and I have delivered. Harry Potter is here with me to tell us all about a new DMLE initiative. But before we get down to business, word on the street says you're engaged, Mr. Potter."

Harry's eyes narrowed, shooting the host a glare that would've made a lesser man consider running away to Azkaban, _not personal my arse_ , but Lee just nodded, a wide grin splitting his face. Recognizing he wouldn't escape through silence, Harry leaned forward, "Er- yeah."

The producer, who'd introduced herself gruffly as 'Finley' groaned silently in her half of the booth, head dropping into her ring-laden hand; George hovered over her shoulder, a broad grin split his face as if this was his greatest prank. Lee, ever the professional, merely drummed his fingers on the table once before prompting, "Care to elaborate?"

"On what?" Harry asked uncooperatively, face a mask of disinterest as he removed his spectacles to polish a non-existent smudge. _George said I had to show up, but he didn't say I couldn't be belligerent if I didn't like the topic._

Lee laughed, whipping out a joke for his listeners about mysterious wizarding celebrities, before turning his attention back to Harry, "Your upcoming nuptials."

"We're getting married." Finley's head dropped to the desk with a dull thud.

Enjoyment of Harry's discomfort apparently more important to Lee than dead air, the host pressed on in his somewhat shallow probe of Harry's personal life, " _Whom_ are you marrying?"

Finally losing his cool, Harry dropped his hands to the table, glasses clattering as he grumped, "You bloody well know."

Smirking as if this had been part of his mysterious bullet pointed plan, Lee leaned into his microphone, voice saccharine as he drawled, "Sorry folks," then addressed his guest, feigning a whisper that would certainly carry over the air waves, "Harry there are _children_ listening."

Quirking a brow, Harry toyed with a half stale doughnut, "It's the late edition, Lee."

"Always were a sassy one, Ginny too, come to think of it. That's his fiancé folks, Holyhead Harpy chaser Ginny Weasley…soon to be _Potter_ ," Lee intoned with a flair of drama to spice up the months old scoop.

Harry nodded, forgetting his audience was a listening one until George knocked on the glass, gesticulating toward the microphone with a mocking look. "Yeah they have a great team going this season," Harry posited, latching onto the Harpy reference in the hopes of keeping the subject to Quidditch and _not_ his and Ginny's penchant for stealing snogs in corridors after games.

Lee smiled, the duo finally at ease, "I think so, although I'm a Puddlemere man myself. I caught the Harpies' last game against the Wasps, Weasley had a few close calls, but the clinched it at the end there."

Eyes getting a far off look, Harry sighed, "Half the time I can't even follow her on the pitch, she's so slick."

Mischief lighting his face, his special guest none the wiser, Lee stayed silent as Harry's monologue continued, "She's just got that _way_ on the pitch, one with the broom, and she works _with_ the wind, not against it."

Pulling the plate of pastries toward him, sniffing a half doughnut suspiciously, Lee nodded for Harry to go on, which he did, with what some would call endearing, and George termed 'sickening,' "She's like a force of nature, and that hair when it flies behind her like a fiery comet. Sometimes I think she can spot me in the crowd, and I see that flush over her cheeks and her eyes are like _fire_. Ginny just has this tenacious quality about everything she does and-"

Suddenly realizing that not only was he verbalizing this aloud, but on the air for Lee's entire listening audience to hear, Harry's soliloquy stumbled to a stop, "And so er- yes. It should be a good season."

Harry refilled his glass, gulping down the depressingly non-alcoholic contents and wishing for a hole to swallow him up before he had to face anyone who had heard his speech. Against his better judgment, he glanced up to the producer's booth, where George flashed him two thumbs up. In response, the mortified auror delivered a rude gesture in his future brother-in-law's direction and mouthed that the red head was a dead man, his green eyes menacingly calm.

Tense silence from a still glaring Harry prompted Lee to let out a slightly forced chuckle as he attempted to regain his briefly cooperative guest, "No need to stop Harry, although you're going to convince half of wizarding Britain to object at your wedding."

"Believe me they don't need me to convince them," Harry muttered, flushing when he realized that once again he had spoken audibly. _Shut up you bloody tosser._

Finally taking pity on the quickly deflating young Potter, Lee transitioned somewhat clunkily, "So tell us about that initiative for safe apparition in muggle areas."

Harry blew out a breath and retrieved his crumpled notes from his meeting with Kingsley the previous day, mentally contemplating whether he could convince his bride-to-be that relocating to an unplottable island inhabited by only them and a few tropical indigenous animal species was the best way to begin a marriage.

While clearing up the booth once the show ended, George poked his head through the doorway, waving a white handkerchief he'd conjured particularly for this event, _drama king_ , as he offered, "Let the two of us take you out for a drink."

Pulling away sulkily as Lee attempted to clap him on the back, Harry grumbled, "I'd rather _never_ be in public again."

George looped a careless arm around Harry's neck, mussing his dark hair playfully, much to the auror's chagrin, "Oh come on. People love human-interest junk."

Harry pushed George away and into a nearby ficus as Lee put in what was apparently an attempt at comfort, "Women _do_ love flattery."

"Fine. But only so you two wankers will shut it."

Less than an hour later, the trio had settled down at a slightly sticky table in the back, as per Harry's rather forceful demand, relaxing somewhat comfortably in the dim lighting. Tom the barman had provided seating that was off the beaten path and may or may not have been cloaked with a few notice me not charms, Harry's second and even more forceful demand of the evening. "I can't believe I said all that on the air."

George took a health draw from his lager, swiping at the foam across his upper lip, "You _were_ rather sappy."

Harry scowled darkly as Lee nodded in agreement.

Before he had a chance to contemplate the many ways he could make George's life hell, a bright voice broke through the din of the pub, "I think it was lovely."

A familiar flowery scent enveloped him as Ginny's arms slid around his shoulders. Harry turned his head, placing a chaste kiss to her smooth cheek, "Hey Gin."

Standing back up, Ginny stroked Harry's shoulders absentmindedly, "I went over to pick you up at the station, but they said you'd left."

Harry dropped his head back, his fiancé's fingers carding through his hair, as he sighed dejectedly, "Yeah. I buggered up the interview."

"No you didn't," Ginny hummed.

"You haven't heard it yet," Harry answered quizzically, eyebrows rising.

Ginny placed a kiss to his brow, "Yes I have."

Lee eyed his now empty glass sadly before placing it back on the table and swiping Harry's untouched firewhisky, "How?"

"Finley let me listen."

Peering at her from between his fingers, Harry mumbled, "Did you think it was- I'm sorry."

Twisting an empty chair from a recently abandoned nearby table, ignoring the busboy's grumbles, Ginny took Harry's hands in hers, "It was lovely."

"Yeah?" Harry murmured, thumbs running along the backs of her hands in smooth strokes.

"Yeah."

Releasing his grip, Harry slid his fingers into the hair at the base of her neck, nose just brushing hers, their breaths mingling, when a most unwelcome interruption came in the form of an entirely forgotten second Weasley at the table, "Potter!"

The couple jolted back, both turning toward the interruption, Ginny speaking first, "What?"

George's stormy expression faded in the face of a new victim for ribbing, "Oh," he clapped his hands together, " _Yes_. This is fantastic."

Despite the blush rapidly working its way across her freckled cheeks, Ginny's gaze turned fiery, "You say one thing George Weasley and I'll tell Angelina _exactly_ what you told me when you were three sheets to the wind the day after Valentine's Day."

Harry and Lee were listening with rapt attention as George ground out his words, "You swore we'd never talk about that again."

"These are extenuating circumstances," Ginny replied loftily, standing from her chair decisively. "But I'll let it pass, if nothing from this evening, including my lovely fiancé's-"

"Are you sure he's not your husband Mrs Pott-," George shot back, seemingly unable to resist.

Ginny leaned across the table, fists planted firmly in front of her, jaw tight and eyes dark and swimming with unspoken threats. George blanched, for once out-done, out-smarted, and out-pranked, as Ginny nodded, "Good."

Recovering himself slightly, the prank legend coughed, "So we keep Valentine's Day between us?"

Tilting her head in what her companions read as acquiescence, Ginny followed Harry as he broke a path through the fairly thick crowd, eventually squeezing her way directly next to him, their heads bent together in intimate conversation.

Lee sighed, legs sliding forward as he lounged back, simultaneously flicking his wand to remove the notice me not charm and raising a hand to signal for another round, "You know if I was at all sentimental-"

"Yeah, they are kind of cute, in a gross way," George agreed, somewhat reluctantly.

As the couple neared the exit, Harry's laugh boomed through the din of the pub, conversations diminishing to a murmur at the unexpected outburst as Harry barked out, " _LIMPID POOLS_?"


End file.
